Who's Your Shimei?

I've had cause for great introspection lately. I think when God redeems you, it frees you to unpack some of the baggage that you may have been carrying around for a while and really examine it. We all have baggage. Even King David had baggage. The sermon on forgiveness at church 2 weeks ago was about David's dying words and his desire for his son to revenge a curse placed upon him by some little feller named Shimei. Shimei was sort of a nobody but he got under David's skin and his few choice words burned at David for the rest of his life. Even on his deathbed, David burned with the sting of those words and couldn't rest til he knew they were avenged.

We all have baggage, but most of us choose not to unpack it. We choose to imprison ourselves and hold onto our anger, resentment, frustration. We choose not to forgive even though we would ask for forgiveness.

So where is this going? A dear friend Linda wrote a beautiful post a few weeks ago about transparency in blogging; about how it frustrated her that people posted inane, foolish stuff while censoring what was really important. She talked about how aggravating it is to see folks act like they have it all together and everything is great just so they won't have to face judgement or backlash. Combined with the life-changing sermons and experiences of the past month, I decided to share a part of me with you.

I called this post 'Who's Your Shimei' because I have a Shimei. There's someone who has so hurt me that I still carry resentment from it, but that ends today. I'm going to tell the whole story today and then I refuse to replay it in my head again.

My dad is my Shimei.

He and my mom separated when I was 3 and my brother was just a few months old. There were a few years of visitation following the divorce, but around my 6th birthday, my dad just disappeared. He chose to pack his bags, leave town and never call us again. He chose not to send cards. He chose not to send child support. He chose to completely turn his back on us, not knowing whether we lived or died. And so did his whole family.

I met my dad again when I was about 21 and for a few years we struggled to form some sort of relationship. I tried for 10 years. It was 10 years of sporadic phone calls. 10 years of guilt because I didn't visit him enough (4 hour drive each way). 10 years of excuses, denials, outright lies. The straw that broke the camel's back was the birth of my daughter. He got mad at me because I wanted him to wait to make the trip to see Mara until we were home from the hospital. (Ask any woman who's had a C-section how she felt about visitors in the hospital and she'll probably tell you the same thing...wait!) He didn't see Mara til she was a year old and he hasn't seen her since. My dad has had the unique pleasure of abandoning his kids twice. How quaint.

I'm bitter about this. I was cheated out of a dad; a dad that I can remember! It's not like he was unknown to me; I remember my dad. I remember sitting in his lap eating sardines with mustard (gag) and I remember the smell of beer on his breath. I remember his motorcycle and sitting at the table eating dinner. I remember visiting his parents one morning so early that it was still dark. And it burns me.

It has affected every aspect of who I am; my ability to trust, my self-worth, my view of people. It has affected my thoughts on marriage and home life. It has affected my relationship with Jeff, Isaac and Mara. And for a while, it affected my relationship with my mom and step-dad. It would appear the only person who came out of this debacle unscathed...is my dad.

I listened to so many excuses from him and my step-mom. How badly they felt about the whole situation. How often they thought about us. How they wondered if we were okay. But never once did they pick up a phone. Never once did they send my mom some money so we could have more than a few changes of clothes. Never once did they consider the things my brother and I did without because it was all my mom could do to pay the house payment and put food on the table. And now, 35 years into this life, I'm still picking out the shrapnel. Years later, my dad is still my Shimei. His act of selfishness is still burning me and even though I tell myself that I've forgiven him, I still bear that pain. And the only person it's hurting is me.

So today, I'm clearing the air. Today I release it. I forgive my dad. For my own sake, I refuse to carry that baggage any longer. I don't feel like I can move forward with my journey into faith if I'm dragging this battered history with me. I have a father now; One who adopted me into His fold and loves me more than I'll ever know. My earthly father may have let me down, but my Heavenly Father never will and from here on, that's who I'm going to focus on.

Now the question is: Who's Your Shimei? Don't tell me, as I am so unworthy of hearing the hurts of anyone out there in bloggerland, but God wants to know. Can you accept God's challenge of forgiveness and release your Shimei?